Where You Least Expect It
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: (AU fic-- 3x4, 2x5) Something strange is happening in Trowa Barton's house. Who ever imagined it was being taken over by pixies? Especially a certain blonde, blue-eyed one...
1. Keys, Keys, Keys

Where You Least Expect It 

By Kay 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing... not yet, at least. It's only a matter of time. They will beg before me to own it soon. Yes... soon... *cackles* Eheheheeee. 

Author's Notes: ^__^ My first large scale Gundam Wing fic for a while-- most of the others were never posted, either. But I figured I'd give it a try and take a short break from Everworld and other anime for a while... hope y'all enjoy! 

Shounen ai (3x4, 2x5, 1x?) 

And before anyone asks... I know this chapter's a little boring, but it's more of an introduction than an actual chapter. Things heat up biiiiiiig time in the next one. :D Quatre will appear soon! I promise! Wufei a little later... s'all good. Don't worry. I just need to keep them with me for a while longer, so I can put sparkly glitter on them... 

Wufei: INJUSTICE! -_- Onna, you're depraved. 

I know... ^__^ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It all began on a normal Tuesday morning, when Trowa Barton couldn't find his car keys. 

Now, it was altogether possible for any human to misplace or lose their only set of car keys. Standard procedure in most homes included a mad dash, scrambling around trying to discover where they'd been left last, and finally finding the elusive set of keys sitting harmlessly on the kitchen counter. It's very normal for people to loose such a small item, as keys are very inconspicuous things. 

However, before you jump to conclusions, dear reader-- consider the person we're speaking of. 

Trowa Barton, age twenty and definitely of the male variety. He was a simple soul that ran deep in eloquent silence and appreciation, and often kept to himself in the small town he lived in. Having grown up west in a similar home, raised by his doting older sister Catherine, he was well-adjusted to the normal life the people lived here. The neighbors believed he was a kind boy -- often they would look outside to see him feeding stray dogs in the community, laying out steak remains and gently scratching the grateful brutes behind the ears. In this statement, there is truth, because Trowa was indeed a very warm-hearted young man. 

He didn't live a difficult or complex life, preferring instead the solitude and peace of routine. Every morning, he would get up at precisely 7:32, if not five or so minutes later, and drink his morning coffee. Columbian roast, two spoons of sugar. Then he would take his keys from the hallway table of his small but humble home, and drive to the small but humble job he had earned in a bookstore downtown. 

The entire town knew Trowa Barton. They smiled at him, waving good morning every time he passed their way on the streets, all good-natured. Once in a blue moon, they would get a polite nod for their efforts, or once, a young girl claimed he allowed a soft smile to pass over his features. Of course, no one believed a myth like that, as Trowa Barton had not smiled once in the entire time he'd lived in their town. How preposterous. 

But to come back to the point, dear reader, Trowa Barton was not the type of man to loose his car keys. Every night he came home, he laid them on the hallway table, resting next to a simple lamp and vase of flowers. Every morning, he picked them up again with a tiny clang, and exited the house. Nothing ever changed in his home. The furniture stayed the same, the rooms stayed the same, the atmosphere stayed the same-- and everything was always in the place it was before. 

In fact, it was such a routine, that on that dreary Tuesday morning, Trowa had made it all the way out to his car before he realized -- that he had _no keys_ in his hand. 

"…" 

Feeling slightly foolish, he walked back to the house and went straight to the hallway table. Glancing momentarily in the mirror set up over it, a single emerald eye blinking on a face half expressionless and half hidden by a wall of handsome chestnut hair, Trowa reached again for his keys. 

Which were not there. 

The dark green eye blinked again. 

"… huh?" Gaping for a second at the empty hallway stand, Trowa stood uncertainly in the hallway. Then, in an abrupt motion, he bent and peered beneath the table suspiciously. A dusty wooden floor met his eyes. 

Nope, they weren't under there. 

Straightening, and feeling slightly put out, Trowa hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do-- obviously, he needed to find his keys before he was late for the first time in his entire employment. But it felt strange to have this break of the routine he'd had for over a year. And he honestly had never had to look for keys before… where would they be, anyway? It's not like he ever took them any farther into the household. 

He went to the kitchen. Stood awkwardly in the doorway, surveying the clean white countertop, and knew without a doubt they wouldn't be there. Walked back to the hallway to check under the table again. 

The tall young man stopped in the doorway, staring oddly at the surface of the table. 

Because there, laying innocently on the mahogany wooden tabletop, were his set of car keys. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Later in the day, he told his friend Duo Maxwell what had happened. 

"Look, it's not like it's a big deal, okay? Car keys go missing all the time. I can never find mine when I need 'em!" 

Trowa sighed slightly, shoving another thick volume on the shelves, between the rows of cramped books. It scraped against the other covers, protesting loudly. Next to him, ignoring the sigh, the human whirlwind he had come to know as his best friend continued his tirade. 

"I mean, just yesterday, I swear I left my watch on the bedroom table, y'know? Except it wasn't there. Even though there's no way they could have walked off on their own, y'know. And I mean, I searched the entire damn house, too, but the stupid thing was hiding from me or something…" He paused, wrinkling his nose cutely and narrowing his trademark violet eyes at the books Trowa was currently attempting to shelf. Although the tall youth had arrived late to his job at _Once Upon a Bookstore_, his stern boss, Mrs. Une, had overlooked it in favor of getting her favorite employee to put up all the new shipped in books from over the weekend. While it wasn't his favorite thing to do, Trowa found it hard to complain when he was keeping his job. 

"I can't believe you got stuck with shelving duty, man," Duo said. Trowa ignored him, continuing to study the titles on the book bindings and put them in their place. 

Both Duo and Trowa had worked at the bookstore since moving into the town, finding a lack of other good jobs available. Duo Maxwell had come far before Trowa Barton had, arriving from the distant land of New York City only four years ago, and finding a home in the sleepy town so different from his original origin. The effects of city life remained on him in the form of his eccentrics-- the long mahogany braid that trailed down his back, a love of exciting thrills, and the dangling silver earring he had in his left lobe. With his heart-shaped face and enticing good looks… and the wide grin that always got him out of trouble… half the town had fallen in love on sight with him. 

The other half fell in love the second time they saw him. 

Still, the adorable exuberance he maintained had created difficulty in finding a steady job for him. The barmen thought he was too young to hire, the café thought his hair was too long, and all the serious jobs thought he was just too… _friendly_. In the end, it was only Mrs. Une who would hire him. (And although she would never admit it anyone but herself, she had grown very fond of the two helpers under her care.) 

Trowa himself hadn't won the town's love, but their companionship and understanding. When he arrived, quiet and withdrawn, Mrs. Une immediately offered him a job-- hoping to counterbalance Duo's hyperactivity in her store. After he accepted the offer and began working with the enthusiastic soul, he found Duo's light-heartedness endearing. In return, Duo attempted to pull Trowa farther out of his shell of solitary confinement. 

They made a great pair. And the fact was, though the boys didn't realize it, their odd companionship and opposite natures brought more business to _Once Upon a Bookstore_ than any book had. 

Those personality contradictions were currently far at work. While Trowa shelved dutifully, his violet-eyed partner watched from the counter, his braid snaking down over the side where he leaned over. It wasn't that Duo didn't work… just that he didn't _like_ to. 

"Anyway," the human whirlwind said. "It's not like you couldn't find them or anything again. You're here after all, unless you got a ride from someone else… I doubt it, though. Your neighbor," and here he made a face, "Mr. Zechs, is really creepy. He looks like an ax murderer." 

At this, Trowa stopped what he was doing and turned. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow at his friend, he asked, "An ax murderer? Duo, he's the school history teacher. He has wind chimes on his porch. I doubt that he'll be out chopping innocent children's heads anytime soon." 

"You don't know that," urged Duo, widening his eyes. "I bet it's all a cover up, so no one will suspect him when all the people begin to go missing!" 

"He's lived in this town for his entire life." 

"So?" 

"So," Trowa answered calmly, beginning to shelf again. "I think if he felt like doing away with the town children, he would have done it by now." 

"Another ploy," Duo replied lazily, leaning so far forward over the counter that his chin touched the cool surface. He blinked steadily. "Anyway, you didn't get a ride from him, I'd guess. So you did find your keys. Where were they?" 

"On the hallway table." 

"What?" The boy frowned in confusion. "I thought you said they _weren't_ there?" 

"They weren't," Trowa explained placidly, a small frown marring his features as soon as he said it. "But when I came back to check again, they were laying right where they usually were." 

Duo's eyes widened further, and he raised his head to look at his best friend in wonder and amazement. He pushed a few strands of oak-brown hair behind his ear, a grin breaking out over his face. 

"Dude, you have a poltergeist living in your house!" 

"Do not," the emerald-eyed boy said in exasperation. "Poltergeists are generally loud and obnoxious. All I did was have my keys show up unexpectedly. I suspect my mind played some sort of trick on me…" 

Duo sagged against the counter again, his braid flopping down to smack against the side when he did so. He pouted, leaning on his arms. "You take all the fun out of everything, Trowa, my man. Where's your sense of adventure? Your curiosity for the unknown?" 

"I was accidentally born without it." That was the nearest Trowa Barton had ever come to a joke. It was a constantly running theme between Duo and himself, the differences in their excitement factors. While Duo was a tornado of energy, always running off to do something wild and shake up trouble, Trowa had been as steadfast and lone as a rock in his social situations. 

It wasn't that he didn't like people… he just didn't love them like Duo did. Pondering this thought with another sigh, Trowa shelved another book. 

"Yeah, well, you need to open your eyes to other possibilities," Duo suggested, still watching him. "And get yourself laid. That, too." 

"Duo, you haven't had a serious date for as long as I've known you. Isn't that a little hypocritical?" 

"Yeah," he grinned. "But I never said it wasn't." 

"…hm." Trowa shook his head in amusement, and shelved another book. 

"Either way," Duo continued cheerfully. "You need some excitement in your life, buddy. Flair! Style! Something to spice up our dreary, depraved lives." 

"_Our_ dreary lives?" Trowa arched an eyebrow at him. "Finally feeling a little confined in this small town?" 

"Nope, just sayin' I wouldn't mind it if something exciting happened." 

"Easier said than done." 

Duo snorted-- and was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell that jangled in the store, alerting them to a customer. They both turned, but not before the violet-eyed boy managed to say one thing under his breath. 

"Maybe it was a pixie, ch'." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To Be Continued: ^_^ Well, how was it? I know it was pretty boring, like I said, and a little lame. But next chapter should get pretty interesting, as all the pranks and strange happenings in Trowa's house start up... hee hee, poor, poor Trowa. 

Thanks for reading! *hugs* EEEEE, go read "Banana Fish" now, bwahahahaa. Now that is a great comic series. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	2. Of Silverware in the Shower

Where You Least Expect It 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Whew, finally got Part Two out... ^_^;; Sorry for the delay folks, I've been super busy lately, and it seems like I have time for about nothin'. Waaah. Oh well, moving on! 

(3x4, 2x5 pairings) -- these will come soon, trust me. We'll start seeing hints of Quatre and Wufei in the next chapter, actually. ^_^ YAY! As for Heero, I'm still a tad bit uncertain of what I'm going to do with him. I had an idea, but we'll have to see how it works out... 

Please enjoy! And thank you for all the kind reviews, they were much appreciated. *hugs* Orange juice to you all! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Trowa Barton was only six, his parents were killed in a car crash. 

He vaguely remembers them, or tiny flashes of their faces and voices, at least. He knows he has his mother's eyes and his father's build, but can't explain the strange hairstyle he'd grown accustomed to having. He remembers their funeral, the heavy scent of magnolia clotting the air, and his older sister Catherine's hand squeezing his tightly. He recalls the people who came and said, _"We're so sorry, Trowa. I know this must be hard for you."_

When he thinks of their deaths, he feels regret and sorrow. But the pain in everyone else's eyes surprises him in every memory. 

After all, at least he still had his sister. 

And that, hopefully-attentive readers, was his saving grace. Catherine Barton, all curly mahogany hair and exuberant smiles, could have given Duo Maxwell a run for his money in the joy section. Although completely different from her little brother's quiet, simple ways, she managed to raise him to the best of her abilities, and win his love and devotion as a baby brother in the process. Indeed, Trowa's fondest memories are that of watching Catherine slice vegetables for soup in their tiny kitchen, kicking his feet against the chair legs of where he sat. 

Despite her attentive and loving care, however, Catherine was _not_ the greatest housekeeper. Of course, no one expected her to be-- after all, she had no time in between taking care of a child and trying to support them with odds and ends jobs. So it was natural to the entire town that the house remain in practically shambles. 

Furniture was mismatched and frayed, with Catherine's skirts tossed carelessly over the armrests. Trowa's books lay in piles against the wall in some places, meticulously organized but without much of a place to go besides the floor. Kitchen utensils were scattered throughout the house, sometimes laying under the couch or hall table. 

Trowa looked back on these times with a cringe. 

After he had moved out, he took great pride in keeping his house organized. Now that he had the room and space to do so, Trowa was almost naturally neat. Things were in their proper place at all times, his books on shelves in a small study by the bedroom, and laundry was done earlier than it actually needed to be. It wasn't that he was obsessive about it, but that he found a certain relaxation in knowing his home would never be the mess his old one used to be. 

So it became very, very confusing when the… _incidents_… began. 

Later, he would maintain that it began with the keys. Every morning after that first Tuesday, it started in a pattern that he couldn't ignore. 

Wake up, eat breakfast, go to grab car keys-- and fail to find them. 

He checked under the table, behind the table, and all along the hallway. Every nook and cranny, each tiny corner in the woodwork, was carefully examined by critical green eyes. Trowa was not in denial, nor was he imagining things, but the simple fact of the matter was, that those keys were disappearing into thin air. He made it absolutely _certain_ that they were on the hallway table every time he came home. Yet the morning would come, bringing the strange vanishing of the keys along with dawn. 

And every time he left the hallway, coming back only seconds later-- they would be laying innocently on the table. 

It was starting to frustrate him. 

When he told Duo, with a low, upset tone, the braided boy merely shrugged cheekily and said, "Cool. So try keeping them in your pockets, then." 

After a week of missing his keys every morning, Trowa finally agreed to try the idea. He left his keys in his pockets at all times, even in his sweat pants at night, feeling the metallic bulge dig into his hip every time he turned in bed. Although it was uncomfortable, Duo continually assured him that it would put an end to the mischief once and for all. 

When Trowa woke up the first Sunday after doing this… the keys were gone. The pocket was flat. And he found them on the hallway table. 

Whatever was happening, it wasn't going to stop. After he realized this, Trowa determined that there was nothing he could do except wait it out. Being a quiet, steady creature of nature, Trowa Barton preferred to leave these things as they were, and grow used to the routine it provided. Soon, he no longer expected to reach for his keys on the hallway table, and instead would walk straight into the kitchen, to come out again and find them there. 

That's when the other incidents began. 

Now, obviously dismayed that the trick was no longer able to get a rise out of the resident, whatever was causing this switched tactics. Poor Trowa first realized it when he found his laundry scattered over the clean tiled floor of his kitchen-- far away from the washing machines in the basement. 

He calmly picked up the articles of clothing… and put them away. 

They ended up in the shower-- while it was running cold water over them-- a few hours later. 

So he hung them up outside to dry in the summer sun, letting the linens sway gently in the breeze as they draped over his fence. His neighbor, Mr. Zechs, waved politely as he worked. 

When he came outside to gather them again, they were strewn all over the grass, and covered in footprints of an undeterminable nature. Slight, tiny ones that jumped across the fabric in funny little patterns. Trowa frowned down at his favorite shirt, now a mess of dirt and frayed sleeves, and found himself at a loss. 

It didn't stop there, either-- his kitchen utensils were showing up in the bathroom sink. He has spoons sticking out of the shower drain, slightly bent at the handle, as though someone had tried to put them there without breaking them. And it didn't help his growing unnerved state when he discovered his books shoved in his dishwashing machine. Trowa only figured himself lucky that it wasn't wet enough to do any real damage. 

Indeed, while the pranks were highly annoying, they didn't do enough harm to seriously anger him. Instead, Trowa found himself at a loss, a dead end in the road. What does one do to an invisible tormentor? It wasn't like he could just _ask_ it to stop. 

Besides, he'd tried it _three times_ already. 

And each time he did, he found coffee grounds in his bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Duo… Duo, I don't know _what_ to do." 

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Trowa looked pleadingly at his best friend, anxiety written in his jade eyes, and the way he ran his hand nervously through his thick brown hair. After three weeks of endless pranks, misplaced items, and a disturbing amount of harmless vandalism, he was at his wits end. The last straw that broke the camel's back had been coming home to find his classical records _taped_ to the ceiling. 

Messing with the appliances was one thing. Fooling around with Trowa Barton's prized music collection was _quite_ another. 

"I don't know what to tell ya, buddy," Duo muttered, sighing as he looked at the ceiling. "This is a little outta my league, you know? It's getting really weird now." 

"I thought that was your forte." 

"What? Strange, mischievous spirits?" 

Trowa shook his head, an amused expression on his handsome features. "No. Weirdness." 

Duo laughed at him, flipping his braid behind his shoulder with an air of carelessness. "Weirdness, yes. Strange, mischievous spirits? Hell no. You'll need someone who knows what they're doing for this sort of job." 

Trowa sighed, leaning against the counter of the bookshop's register placing, and glanced around at the empty store. The _Once Upon a Bookstore_ had been slow all day, with business down to a trickle. It was lucky, however, that he had the chance to discuss his predicament with Duo instead of working. 

Absently searching outside the clear, glassy windows for prospective customers, Trowa murmured, "I have no desire to walk up to a stranger and tell them someone's been messing around in my house. Besides, it's impossible that it's any realistic sort of creature. Many of these pranks are impossible to do without my knowledge." 

"I told you it's poltergeists," Duo pouted. His deep purple eyes twinkled mischievously, though, and soon the pout morphed into a full-fledged grin. Waving a hand, he gleefully announced, "I can help you there! Back in New York, my _forte_, as you call it, was taking care of ghosts. I was in the business, man." 

The tall, green-eyed boy frowned as his friend. "I thought you were in the mechanics business?" 

"Well, that too." 

"I thought you said you didn't deal with strange, mischievous spirits." 

"I don't," Duo replied haughtily, stubbornly sticking his chin higher in the air. There was nothing the braided young man hated more than doubt on his abilities… of which there were many, although that will come in time, my readers. "I deal with ghosties. The transparent dudes. The dead. Spirits are another thing entirely, they were _born_ that way, not sent to be in that state. It's like faeries and brownies and stuff. They aren't dead, just whimsical creatures already." 

Gaping slightly at his best friend, Trowa's mind whirled with the fact that he didn't know this until now. "You were… a ghost hunter or something?" 

Duo shrugged impishly, narrows shoulders burned slightly lobster red from the summer sun outside the store. "Or something, yeah." 

"Hm." 

Duo stuck out his tongue. "Oh, cut it out. It's true. I rang around with a gang of ghost chasers, kinda. It wasn't for very long, but wow, it was the time of my life…" A dreamy expression crossed his pale features. "The suspense, the action, the ghosts… it was amazing!" 

Sighing, Trowa considered his options-- which contained just leaving things the way they were, asking Duo to perform some odd ceremony involving sacrificial bone jewelry to get rid of the ghost, or moving out altogether. As he loved his home, the third option was cancelled. And he couldn't very well _not_ do anything, so the first one was also. 

Which left him with one. 

"Alright. Can you come over and help tomorrow?" 

Violet eyes shined with happiness and gratitude, as Duo nodded excitedly and bows. "I promise, Trowa, I'll get rid of the thing! Or at least make contact. Or at least see some really, really awesome and crazy stuff!" 

"That's so reassuring," Trowa responded dryly. Being a man of silence and solitude, he wasn't even sure Duo had ever been to his home before. The idea caused a slightly nervous trill in his senses, to have anyone else intrude on his sanctuary. On the other hand, he told himself quietly, someone already has. 

Meanwhile, while Trowa pondered whether his decision was wise, Duo was getting himself hyped up. After happily drowning the Cola can he'd been sipping from for half the morning, he rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning manically at his best friend's worried posture. 

"Don't worry, Tro. They used to call me Shinigami… I was the best!" 

"Shini…?" 

"Shinigami. The God of Death." Duo winked. "It'll be just like the old days for me, back in New York, with the gang. Like riding a bicycle again, y'know? All I have to do is get back on, and I'll know _exactly_ what to do." 

Somehow, yet not surprisingly, Trowa already regretted this action. Yet he nodded approvingly, storing the concern in the back of his mind, and agreed to meet Duo at noon tomorrow in his home. 

It would prove to be the _best_ thing he'd ever done. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To Be Continued... in Chapter Three, where Duo discovers, no, it's not a ghost, and no, trying to exorcise them will definatly *not* work. Poor Duo... ^_^;; 

More of Duo's odd past will be revealed later in the story, including why he's here in the first place, when he obviously loved New York. A *lot* will be revealed. Stupid story's gonna take forever. *sigh* 

Thanks for everything! ^_^ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
